


Moonlight Burst into the Room

by irreplaceable_ecstacy



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ballroom Dancing, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, some of them are really sad or angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-01-04 09:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21195389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irreplaceable_ecstacy/pseuds/irreplaceable_ecstacy
Summary: kiss/kɪs/verb1.touch or caress with the lips as a sign of love, sexual desire, or greeting.noun2. a touch or caress with the lips.~•~A series of kisses between Marya Dmitrievna and Hélène Kuragin. The bonding moments and the fallouts of their relationship, told in many alternative universes. Some kisses aren't happy, but many led to better endings than others.





	1. The World Opened Wide

1.** A good morning kiss & small kisses littered across the other's face (Modern! AU)**

The sun pierced through the translucent curtains of Marya's room, the light brushing against the redhead's face but it did not wake her. Marya Dmitrievna buried her face deep into her pillow to shield her eyes from the sunlight, and sighed quietly. It was the first day of the weekend and she had no plans for the day other than sleeping. This was paradise. No stress, no college work and best of all, no need to tolerate her snotty old lecturer, Professor Bolkonsky. That man was far too much, always demanding that everyone finished their work by the next day and their work consisted of stacks of essays and mock exam papers. The papers on Marya's desk were just as thick as Tolstoy's War and Peace and Victor Hugo's Les Miserables combined. But now, her mind was empty, just as empty as her single bed felt. A warmth lingered on the right side of the bed along with the faint scent of flowers but she could not think of the source. Whoever left that warmth had left not long ago.

Marya rolled on her side and pulled the blanket over her head, finding that burying her face in her pillow did nothing to block the sunlight. She tucked her hands under her head and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fall back into her slumber. That was when she felt a weight pressing her into the bed, very very slowly. The weight grew heavier and a strained squeak slid past Marya's lips. She was trapped underneath with no strength or space to move. There were a pair of arms wrapped around her tightly and legs locked around her own. The weight did not move much, only shaking from laughter. The laughter was soft and airy and it made Marya smile. It was like music to her ears. This intruder of hers was going to be in deep trouble but that was if she freed herself of their grip. Slender fingers curled around the end of the blanket and lowered it to reveal Marya squinting through tired eyes at her intruder. Brown eyes stared back at Marya, crinkled from a wide smile spread across their lips.

"Good morning, Marya~"

"Hélène, what did I tell about interrupting my sleep?"

Hélène giggled mischievously and rested her head on Marya's shoulder, her grip around the older girl tightening. Marya laughed softly and turned to lay on her back, grateful that Hélène gave her some space to move. Once she was on her back, Hélène dropped herself onto her, her head laying on her chest. Marya's arms snaked Hélène's and held her in place. She took her time to soak in the warmth that was absent not long ago, her face nuzzled against the other's locks of brown curls. There was the scent of flowers, only stronger than what was left on her sheets. Hélène ran her fingers along Marya's forearms, humming softly in delight. She looked up at Marya with a cheeky grin and Marya returned with a fond smile.

"I don't think I got my 'good morning' response," Hélène murmured and inched a little closer to Marya's face.

"Ah that- I meant to scold you for intruding my sleep but, good morning to you too, lovely," Marya chuckled, running a hand through Hélène's hair gently.

Hélène purred playfully and leaned into the hand. "You looked so comfortable, I simply could not hold in the urge to join you."

"You're always welcomed to join me in bed," Marya told her and pecked her lips.

Hélène was not taking that quick peck as their morning kiss. That was unacceptable. She held the back of Marya's head and brought her lips to her own. Marya returned the kiss instantly and sat up slightly to deepen the kiss, propping herself up on her elbows. They pulled away not long after, foreheads pressed together and smiles stretched across their lips. Hélène stroked Marya's cheek gently and nuzzled against her lovingly. They could stay like this all day, that was if Marya could remain propped up on her elbows without getting exhausted. Hélène planted kisses across Marya's face, giggling quietly in amusement. Marya scrunched her nose and made a sound that made Hélène laugh aloud.

"What was that?" Hélène asked in between kisses.

"Do I get a turn to shower you with my affections?" Marya asked and waggled her brows teasingly.

Hélène tapped her chin in thought. "Um- No."

"Wrong answer, Kuragin," Marya responded plainly.

In one swift move, Hélène was underneath Marya. It was easy as it only took a small amount of effort to roll her off of herself for Hélène was rather light. Hélène had let out a surprised yelp and scowled up at Marya who smirked victoriously. Marya leaned in and gave Hélène a quick kiss on the lips then pulled away.

"That was uncalled for, Dmitrievna," Hélène sulked and folded her arms over her chest.

"Serves you right for ruining my sleep," Marya chimed.

"But you didn't complain," Hélène argued back.

"I know I didn't. You just made my morning a lot better," Marya murmured and planted small kissed across Hélène's in return.

Hélène's scowl disappeared and her smile returned. "Only for you..."

Marya laid down beside Hélène, not wanting to crush the petite girl as she was at least half a head taller. Her arms wrapped themselves around Hélène's waist and pulled her close against herself, her head rested atop of the other's. Hélène buried her face in the crook of Marya's neck and nuzzled against it comfortably. Their bodies fitted perfectly, managing to fit the single bed with plenty of space to roll around and stretch. They stayed there for the rest of the morning, unmoving and Marya was fairly certain that Hélène had fallen asleep.


	2. In My House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected meeting, but one that Marya will always remember

2\. **A small, fleeting kiss - followed by a passionate, hungry kiss**

( During the events of The Great Comet of 1812 )

It was early in the morning, close to the break of dawn, but the Akhrosimova household was in a rush. A few servants rushed about to clean up the rooms of the granddaughters of the Grand Dame of Moscow, Marya Dmitrievna, while the woman of the house herself tended to her goddaughters. Natasha and Sonya Rostova hurried to get themselves nicely dressed up for their visit to the Bolkonskys, the family of Natasha's betrothed, Andrei Bolkonsky. It would be rude to refuse a visit to their in-laws and they had to give the very best impression of themselves to earn the favor of the supposedly crazy Prince Bolkonskys. A troika waited at the gate of the grand house and the girls got in swiftly with no time to delay. Marya did not follow them for she had other matters to attend to and she did not wish to meet that terrible old Prince. She had met him several times at events and he was, without a doubt, the worst person she had ever met in her life. She did not tell her goddaughters about this for she did not want Natasha frightened about the Prince before meeting him. That would jeapardize her entire impression and Marya did not want anything getting in the way of the engagement.

Waving good-bye to the silhouettes of her goddaughters from the doors of her house, she watched the troika disappear down the road. Heaving a quiet sigh, she stepped inside her house and closed the doors behind her. The silence of the house settled in, save for the scattered footsteps of the servants, and Marya felt lonely, like she always did. She lowered her head as she walked through the house, her boots clicking against the marble floor with every step. When she stepped inside the living hall, the sight of green drapes made her snap her head up, her breath hitched in her throat. The green drapes contrasted every color in the living hall, standing out from the white marble, and red drapes and furniture. She was greeted by an elegant woman but she was no stranger. This was someone Marya had not seen in a long time, years, to be precise. But here she was, grinning up at her with that royalty-worthy smile. The smile did not sway Marya but her presence did. She took a deep breath when she realized she had been holding her breath, unable to force out a greeting past her lips. But then a thought snapped her out of her daze. The woman showed up uninvited and none of the servants informed her of her her presence. Straightening herself up, she raised her head in the air and looked down at the woman.

"Countess Bezukhova..." Marya began.

The woman rose from her seat and nodded lightly. "Madame Dmitrievna."

"I did not expect you to show up unannounced... I don't suppose you slipped past my servants," Marya added the last bit in a questioning tone, not wanting to stir up an argument.

"Forgive me for the sudden appearance. Not long ago, I thought it would be a marvellous idea to surprise you, but I mightn't have considered the ethics... Shall I take my leave?"

"No!" The reply came out quickly, and Marya failed to stop the desperation in her voice. "I mean - Please. It would be rude of me to kick out a guest upon arrival."

They smiled at each other awkwardly and the other nodded lightly. The awkwardness was painful, so to say the least, but neither showed it. They were trained to be perfect individuals, the faces of the Russian upper class. It was inappropriate of them to display any sort of genuine feeling but it was nothing Marya couldn't handle. Shifting where they stood, Marya was the first to drop the fancy act. She slouched her shoulders and threw her hands in the air. At this, the other relaxed from her tensed position, shoulders dropping slightly and her hands fumbled with the ruffles of her dress anxiously. Marya looked up and took a few steps towards the woman, closing that awful distance between them. She stopped when she was inches away from the other, not wanting to intrude her personal space. Carefully, Marya took her hands away from her dress and grasped them gently. Those hands felt too familiar in hers, like she had once described, a perfect fit. Unable to control themselves, they embraced tightly, soft giggling filling the air.

"Hélène..." Marya dropped all formalities, finally gazing at the other woman properly with a small smile.

"Marya." Hélène 'Besukhov' smiled back, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze.

"H-how have you been? I haven't seen you in years! Y-you look the same," Marya stammered, overjoyed to see her old acquaintance.

"I've been well, mon cherie, but I could be better. And I sure am glad that you still see me the same," Hélène murmured in reply, chuckling lightly in amusement.

Marya scrunched her nose lightly. "Yeah, and your French too. It's still is as terrible as it was. You haven't improved at all."

Hélène groaned dramatically and rolled her eyes playfully. "When will you not criticize my French, Marya dear? Last I saw you, you sulked about how dreadful it was when I simply bade you 'au revoir'."

"If I had known that it was our last goodbye, I would have left it be..."

Hélène saw the way Marya's expression fell and she felt her own stomach twist at the sight. Their last goodbye burned at the back of their heads. A clear memory, and one they wanted to forget now that they were united. Shaking her head, Hélène rested a hand against Marya's cheek and ran her thumb against her skin lightly.

"Hey... That moment was not your fault. It was neither our faults," Hélène spoke softly. "All that matters now is that we're here together. There's no one here to separate us."

"Does your husband know you're here?" Marya asked dryly.

"He does... Since he's your friend, it was the only time I ever got his permission to visit someone," Hélène answered and furrowed her brows.

"I see. So, it was your decision to visit me?"

Marya kicked herself mentally in her head and snorted at her question. She sounded so pathetic and desperate for Hélène's attention after being neglected of it for years since her marriage with Pierre Besukhov. Pierre, her old friend, now her nemesis for what he had done to break her heart. Marya moved away from Hélène's embrace and rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment, unable to face the younger woman. The feelings she had been trying to bottle up were leaking, threatening to burst free and she had no intentions of combusting in a flurry of emotions in front of Hélène. She turned away, raising a hand to her forehead as she tried to relax. Hélène did not move, her feet planted on that very spot but she answered Marya's question.

"It was... And mine alone. I had to see you, one way or another."

"Why now?" Marya mumbled almost inaudibly.

If it weren't for their closed distance, Hélène would have missed the mumble of a question. "Honestly, I don't know... Look, we don't have to dwell on the past. Can we just use the time that we have now to catch up with each other? Please?"

"Of course..."

Hélène held a hand out to Marya and she took it. They led themselves to the couch and sat down, folded legs pressed against each others. They didn't leave a gap in between, neither wanting to be deprived of the other's warmth in the winter chill that lingered in the living hall. The fireplace was dimly lit but it was enough for the two of them, especially Hélène who was draped in a thick fur coat. There they spoke about the events of their lives throughout the years and they laughed loudly in the least lady-like manner. They did not care about the servants eavesdropping but Marya knew that they knew better than to commit such an act. With her reputation as the Terrible Dragon of Moscow, one would have to be insane to defy her. They spoke for a long time, or what felt like hours. They spoke at rapid paces, not wasting a a second to take a breath. They shared many stories, every bit in detail and they even joked about their past memories of being together. Marya talked mostly of her fondest memories with the Rostova family while Hélène spoke more about her current family affairs and her marriage life which was oddly entertaining with Pierre. Marya had never felt happier. Before the loneliness, there was this, there was Hélène for company and it was enough.

However, they could not speak for long as Natasha and Sonya were sure to return soon from the Bolkonskys. Hélène shared her last story about her brother, Anatole Kuragin, and his supposed new boyfriend, Fedya Dolokhov. She took her time excusing the rumor going about that she was cheating on Pierre with Dolokhov, explaining to Marya that Dolokhov has absolutely no interest in her and that they were only close for the sake Anatole. Marya believed her, of course, and appreciated that she took the initiative to explain the stupid gossips but it was admirable how Hélène had little care about it. The clock that hung in the room chimed for the third time, the third hour having just passed, and it was time for Hélène to go. Marya escorted Hélène to the front door and they stood there, smiling at each other with all the fondnest they could muster. They hugged tightly and shared their last laugh.

"Goodbye, Hélène. It was lovely seeing you again. Please, visit whenever you want but do make sure that you inform me in advance," Marya told Hélène firmly and squeezed her hands gently.

"I will, mon cherie. As for you, feel free to come by. Pierre would be delighted to see you and so will I. I'd probably be overexcited but, I'll keep that toned down," Hélène hummed and chuckled softly.

Marya nodded and beamed. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"Don't forget to write to me, alright?"

"I won't. And you had better write back."

Hélène laughed heartily. "I will."

They gazed at each other and in a heartbeat, their lips met in a small, fleeting kiss. When they pulled away, their smiles had gone, replaced with wide eyes, suddenly needy. Throwing their hands over each other's shoulders, they pressed their bodies together, lips colliding in a deeper and passionate kiss. The kiss was messy and hungry. They clawed at their garments, nails digging into flesh through the thick layering of drapes. Wrapping her arms around Hélène's waist firmly, Marya pressed the smaller girl against the wall, a grunt sounding against her lips and reached a hand up to grasp the back of her head as they deepened the kiss. Hélène let out a breathy moan against Marya's lips and her arms coiled around her neck more securely. They had no intentions of letting go, not again but they pulled away when they heard the sounds of a troika coming to a halt outside the doors. Their lips still brushed against each others in a ghostly touch and they pressed their foreheads together. Hélène cupped Marya's cheek and closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath.

"Next time," she breathed and looked up at Marya.

"Next time..." Marya repeated, only quieter.

"Au revoir, dear Marya," Hélène whispered and kissed her one last time.

The kiss didn't last. When Hélène's lips left Marya's own, the woman was gone, having left through the back-door to avoid being caught by the Rostova girls who had already stepped inside the house. Marya felt a pang of regret in her chest. She didn't say goodbye, she didn't return the final kiss fast enough. If that was the last time they would ever speak or kiss again, this would be another memory burnt at the back of her head, piling over the regrets of her life.

'_Goodbye, Hélène_...'


	3. The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. A forbidden kiss
> 
> (During the events of the Great Comet of 1812)

* * *

3.** A Forbidden Kiss**

A masquerade ball burst into life in the Besukhov household, and guests of the higher class began to pour into the ballroom. Chandeliers lit the room like a cluster of stars, a decorative and pleasant beige glow that highlighted the room's golden gilded columns and ceiling. Servants stood in neat rows, ready to serve the guests with an abundant amount of drinks on trays. Anatole Kuragin and Fedya Dolokhov, both donning identical bear masks, stood by the doors to welcome the guests. They collected the invitations on a silver platter then handed them to a servant to be sent away, neither knew where. None of the guests had the same outfit and it was difficult to identify familiar faces concealed beneath the masks. It was better that way.

The lady of the house and hostess of theball, Hélène Kuragin watched the guests up on a balcony, eyes surveying the crowds for a friendly face. She did not bother masking herself but was prepared with a feather-y mask in her hand to conceal herself among the crowd. Excluding Anatole and Dolokhov, there were no other friendly faces she could find, only royals, counts and dukes she had met briefly before at her father's parties. She was looking out for a certain redheaded woman, but she doubted that the woman would come to a ball hosted by her. She had invited the woman's goddaughter, Natasha Rostova, as requested by Anatole, and was absolutely certain that the girl was going to attend. However, anyone would know that at a Kuragin ball, something was bound to happen. Either good or terribly awful. She didn't blame anyone for that. The awful things often circulated around Hélène and Anatole, never their youngest brother Ippolit Kuragin. They always had the spotlight in gossips and rumors, some in which were entertaining but most were pure garbage.

Hélène twisted her lace gloves in her hands, humming softly to calm her nerves of anxiety. Not long ago, Pierre had told her that the ball may have been a bad idea but she did not give in. There was never a time she would give in to her husbands words, however logical it was compared to her own plans. She wanted to prove that she was capable of making her own decisions and handling the consequences but this time, she regretted it. As much as she wanted to deny it, she should have listened to that stupid old man. Hélène tensed up when she felt a pair of hands grasp her shoulder and spun around to find a bear head staring down at her. She snorted lightly and elbowed the person in the ribs as she shrugged his hands off.

"Nice try, Dolokhov," Hélène murmured and smirked up at him.

"You didn't have to be so harsh, Hélène. That really hurt," Dolokhov grumbled as he slid the mask off, using his free hand to rub his assaulted ribs.

"What are you doing up here?" Hélène asked with a wave of her hand, ignoring Dolokhov's grumbling.

"I could ask you the same. It's your ball. You should be out there mingling and greeting your guests, like Anatole is doing," Dolokhov responded and gestured to the crowd below them.

"It isn't like anyone notices my absence... I'm just looking and admiring the costumes from afar. Also, I'm not in the mood to converse with any of these people, you must understand that," Hélène answered him dully.

"Boring..." Dolokhov commented and rolled his eyes. "But I do understand. They only talk about politics or the most exquisite wine in Italy or something like that. I never listen."

Hélène laughed softly and nudged him lightly. "You get my point."

They leaned over the balcony together and watched the little dance in the middle of the ballroom. Dolokhov hummed to the familiar songs the orchestra played and swayed with the music. Hélène remained still with her eyes wandered restlessly. No sign of Marya Dmitrievna, just as she had expected. She sighed quietly and lowered her head, staring at the ground beneath the balcony, a long way down. She found that spot a lot more interesting than the crowd and proceeded to stare at it for minutes. The song shifted to a slower song and Dolokhov tapped her shoulder, offering a hand out to her. Hélène looked up and tilted her head, her lips stretching into a lopsided smile.

"May I have this dance?" Dolokhov asked with a playful tone as he bowed.

"The pleasure is mine," Hélène responded and curtseyed.

They laughed as they took each other's hands and danced on the balcony. They were well-trained dancers, having learnt to dance together when they were children. The memories were vivid but happy. The thought of it made Hélène smile more as she swayed with Dolokhov to the beat of the music. In the middle of the dance, Dolokhov leaned in to speak, making sure that Hélène could hear his voice over the music. She could hear him clearly and she did not miss the sadness in his voice.

"Um- Anatole told me that you invited Natasha to the ball... Out of his request. I didn't think she would come but I saw her chatting away with that stupid boy."

"I knew she would come, but why does that bother-" she paused midway and her mouth formed an 'oh'. "Shit. I'm such a fool."

"It's not your fault that he's head over heels with the girl... I've tried my shot but he's... he's blind, or I might have missed," Dolokhov murmured and shrugged.

"Anatole is an idiot. We both know that. One day, I'm sure he'll notice you otherwise I'll knock some sense into that empty head of his," Hélène stated firmly.

Dolokhov cracked a small smile and kissed Hélène's forehead gently. "Thank you. I appreciate your help, but now that my chance is gone, let's focus on yours. I don't want to waste any time on a lost cause."

"My chance?" Hélène questioned and raised a brow.

"Don't play dumb with me, Hélène. I'm not as stupid as Anatole and Pierre are. I know what's going on with you," Dolokhov told her and waggled his brows. "And you're not exactly the best at stealth."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hélène argued and gnawed on her bottom lip.

"If you say so~ Another reason why I came up here was to tell you that I saw her."

"Where?!" Hélène stopped abruptly and scowled at Dolokhov. "Fine, you caught me... That sounded too overly excited."

"You may be a Kuragin, stone-faced and all, but you're quite the sucker for love," Dolokhov said with a small laugh.

"Our secret from now on. Now, please tell me where she is!" Hélène pleaded overjoyed to hear that Marya Dmitrievna was at the ball.

"She's at the drinks table, avoiding the crowd and masked as a fox. She's wearing a gorgeous red gown. So gorgeous, you'll blush just as red as her dress," Dolokhov replied teasingly.

"Thank you, you lovable idiot!" Hélène hugged Dolokhov tightly and littered his face in kisses.

Dolokhov patted her back, careful of the wings on her back, and laughed. "Anything to make you happy."

"I owe you one." She planted a small kiss on his lips and patted his chest.

"No need. Go get your woman. That'll beenough for me," he told her.

Hélène nodded. Pressing one last kiss against his forehead, she took off towards the stairs, heels clacking in her tracks. She slid her mask over her face neatly and stepped into the sea of people, getting lost almost instantly. She murmured rapid 'excuse me's, shared quick greetings with some of the guests but spared no time to talk to them. She wanted to find Marya, to have a word with her before the ball ended. If she missed this chance, goodness knew when the next one would come. After minutes of squeezing and shoving, she still could not find the redhead. She had tried to tip toe but that didn't help, and she cursed at her height, for being so goddamn short. Why did she have to be the shortest in the family despite being the oldest of her siblings? Huffing to herself, she tried to squeeze her way through the guests to the side of the ballroom, where she thought was safe, only to be dragged by the hand to the dance floor.

She could not pry her hand away from whoever it was for two reasons. One, it would be extremely rude of the hostess to reject a dance in such a manner and two, this person had an iron grip. On the dance floor, the stranger had pulled her against his chest and they swayed with the other guests to the music. Hélène managed to identify the guest, one of her father's old acquaintances, one of the many she disliked. Still, she offered him her signature smile, a half grin more of, and nodded her head in a polite greeting. She could make out a 'bonjour' from reading the man's lips, other than that, she could only hear the chatter of the crowd and the music ringing in her ears. He spoke to her but she wasn't listening, not when his hands wandered along her curves. She wanted nothing more than to stomp on the man's foot with heel of her boot but refrained from doing so. She tolerated the best she could but found herself trying to pull away from the man. This was not how she wanted the night to go. She was close to raising her foot to stomp on the man's foot when the man froze abruptly. She looked up to see his eyes wide in fear but they weren't directed in her way but to the figure she did not notice beside them. The figure had moved in swiftly, taking Hélène's hands with a hushed warning uttered to the man. The man nodded at whatever the figure had said and went to find another partner on the dance floor. Hélène sighed in relief and looked up to greet her savior. It was a familiar woman dressed in the most gorgeous red dress and a fox mask. Beneath the fox mask, she found stern blue eyes staring down at her but they softened.

"You're a very difficult woman to find, Countess Bezukhova," the woman murmured, her voice like music to Hélène's ears.

"Believe me, it's not intentional," Hélène muttered and chuckled softly, tilting her head slightly. "Hello, Marya."

"Hello, Hélène." Marya smiled down at the woman in her arms. "You look rather lovely."

"Thank you. And you- you look - " Hélène's mouth felt dry and she was speechless. The longer she looked at Marya's dress, the more stunned she was.

"With that reaction, it tells quite a lot," Marya spoke up and Hélène's cheeks heated up.

"Sorry- I've never seen you so beautiful - I mean- "

"Thank you," Marya sighed and shook her head lightly, chuckling.

Hélène regained her composure and laughed her embarrassment away. "So, how did you find me?"

"Long story short, a friend of yours in a bear mask nearly scared me half to death and offered to help me find you," Marya replied with a small roll of her eyes.

"Ah- Dolokhov. He's quite the mischievous one," Hélène hummed in amusement.

Marya snorted lightly. "And an awful dancer. We had to dance our way through this lot to get to you and I lost count of how many times he stepped on my foot."

"That's him~" Hélène chimed and grinned. "I owe him another favor."

"What for? Stomping on my foot?" Marya asked and laughed dryly.

"For leading you to me, mon cherie, and I owe you for saving me from that stupid pervert of a Duke," Hélène muttered in a hushed voice.

"I don't need favors, Hélène, it's alright. Believe me, I had to resist every urge to throw my boot at him for commiting such an atrocious act," Marya admitted and held her head high, a little proud of herself.

"Well, I'm grateful that did not happen. So, can I call you my knight in shining armor?" Hélène asked playfully, letting out a sharp laugh when Marya jabbed her side with her knuckle.

"Hilarious. You always were a joker," Marya murmured and chuckled lightly.

"Only to hear that laugh of yours. Worked like a charm~" Hélène giggled.

They danced for a little while longer, taking in this precious moment between them. Nothing could ruin this and even so, they wouldn't let anything get in their way. Seeing two women dance together wasn't the rarest thing. Among the dancers, many danced with partners of the same gender. It was an amazing sight, Marya thought. It was amazing because everyone was free to do what they wanted to do in this room, donned with masks. If they did something wrong, no one would he able to identify them. A negative advantage of the masks but still, Marya enjoyed this freedom. Laughter filled the room over the music but Hélène and Marya were focused in each other, exchanging smiles and fond looks as they danced together. There was a look in Hélène's eyes, Marya could see it very clearly. The way she gazed at her and the light pink flush coloring her cheeks. It was fond but mixed with worry, and Marya had to know what was plaguing this woman's mind. She couldn't read through Hélène, that woman had a wall built behind her eyes, trained since young to be unreadable, and she disliked it greatly for she could never figure out what was wrong on her own.

Marya led their dance to the corner and pulled Hélène with her, through the crowds and into a dark hallway, away from the crowd. The hallway was empty, clear of any servants and nobility, and the noise of the ball was muffled once Marya closed the door behind her. Leaning against the door, Marya watched as Hélène paced in circles. She could not see her face through the mask, and her own obscured her view. She removed her mask and placed it on a marble table beside her, then approached Hélène. She grasped Hélène's shoulders and held her in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. Hélène looked up at Marya and the older woman tried to read her expression. She couldn't see anything behind those brown eyes and it frustrated her. Sighing, she removed Hélène's mask and hung it on her belt, cupping her cheeks within her hands. Hélène closed her eyes and nuzzled into Marya's hands, letting out a quiet contented sigh. The warmth against her cold skin was soothing.

"Hélène...?"

"Why must things be like this?" Hélène murmured sadly, her eyes dropping to look at Marya's boots.

"I don't know..." was all Marya could answer, and she lifted Hélène's head.

Hélène brushed a hand against her eyes and Marya caught the glistening of a tear. "It's... It's tough, Marya, putting up with this life." Another tear rolled down her cheek.

"Oh, please don't cry... You can tell me anything," Marya murmured and wiped the tears away with her thumbs.

"Don't you hear the gossips everyday? I'm married to someone I don't love and people assume that I married for money. I have the title of a slut, accused of incest and sleeping with more than half of the population of men of Moscow." Hélène buried her face in her hands, hiding the tears that poured down her cheeks.

Marya watched her, in a state of shock. She had never seen Hélène cry so much. The most she had seen was a tear or two from frustration or from laughing too much, this was entirely alien to her. Without much of a thought, Marya closed the distance between them, pried Hélène's hands off her face and pressed her lips against hers. It was a daring move considering that she risked the chance of getting caught, and it would be the biggest scandal of Russia. Two women of nobility, one a widow and the other a married woman. However, neither of them cared. Hélène's lips moulded against Marya's and she leaned in to deepen the kiss. Marya held her waist tightly, bodies pressed against each other. The distance that separated them frightened them, a fear that if they parted for too long, they wouldn't be able to see each other again. The kiss was passionate, filled with love and hunger. They had been deprived of comfort and affection for too long.

They pulled away for breath but their lips remained against each other's, breath against breath. Hélène's tears had stopped and she gazed up at Marya with loving eyes. She stroked her cheeks delicately and Marya closed her eyes, leaning into Hélène's warmth. They laughed softly but sadness was laced in their voices. They held onto each other, pressing small kisses every now and then. Marya wrapped her arms around Hélène protectively, the shorter woman all nicely tucked against her. They stood in the dark quietly, treasuring the moment to every last second. They didn't know how long they were there for but the hype of the ball was beginning to calm, and it told them that it was time to go. Marya kissed Hélène's forehead and gave her a light squeeze.

"I... I have to go," Marya whispered hesitantly. "The girls might be wondering where I am by now and they also have a curfew, which I am certain, is way overdue."

"Then go," Hélène mumbled quietly, pulling away from Marya's arms.

Marya watched Hélène as she moved away, suddenly uncertain whether she wanted to leave her like this. She grasped her hands and kissed her one last time, in which Hélène happily returned. They stayed like that, dragging the passionate kiss until Marya pulled away to murmur something.

"I love you..."

Hélène was on the verge of bursting into tears and mustered every bit of strength to hold her tears back. "I love you too..."

They embraced and exchanged another kiss before Marya left to return to the ballroom. Hélène stood there quietly, her fingers brushing against her lips, feeling the ghostly touch of Marya's lips still lingering there. She smiled. She didn't want to waste the moment in sadness and sorrow, it wasn't exactly the last time they were seeing each other. She turned to go but stopped when the doors to the ballroom opened. Dolokhov stood there with a cheeky grin and closed the door behind him, chuckling softly. Hélène, with a roll of her eyes, pulled him to her side and chuckled with him.

"Now, I demand details," Dolokhov insisted and escorted her down the hall, arm in arm. "And I mean, everything, please."

"Since you said please, I'll tell you everything," Hélène hummed and laughed softly.

Hélène stopped them in their tracks when she spotted Marya's mask laying on the marble table, forgotten. Picking it up, she smiled down at it and Dolokhov sighed quietly, his own smile widening. Hélène slid it on and flashed a grin at Dolokhov, much like a child and they proceeded with their walk, Hélène with a fluttering in her chest. At least she had something from the woman she loved, a reminder.

* * *

Marya searched for her goddaughters through the crowd, eventually finding them perched at the stairway. Natasha Rostova leapt to her feet when she saw her godmother, waving excitedly towards her as she sprinted down the stairs, Sonya Rostova in a haste to keep up. As she was about to greet her godmother, Natasha's eyes narrowed at Marya's lips and she pulled out her handkerchief. Sonya too stared at Marya's lips through her mask and lifted it up for a better look.

"Girls, is there something so fascinating to stare at on my lips?" Marya asked and the girls looked up at her.

"Lipstick stains," Natasha answered shamelessly, and Marya's eyes widened.

"Is it obvious?" Marya asked, letting Natasha wipe the stains for her, relieved when she shook her head.

"How on earth did it smudge? Did you wipe your hand across your face or maybe your wine glass?" Natasha asked curiously, wiping down the last of the stains.

"Perhaps," Marya lied but Sonya saw straight through that lie.

"Don't bombard our dear godmother with so many questions, Natasha. She might be just as exhausted as we are," Sonya said to Natasha, taking her cousin's hand.

"My apologies. Let's return then. Come, there are troikas waiting outside," Natasha chimed, leading the group of them out of the ballroom.

Sonya eyed Marya suspiciously but did not ask any questions for she did not wish to pressure her after an exhausting night. And also because she did not want to be yelled at by the Terrible Dragon. Quietly, the three of them walked out. When they boarded the troika, Marya felt something jab her side painfully and she sat up slightly to remove the object. It was feathery and it hung to the side of her belt stubbornly. Holding it up to the light, she softened, smiling at the sight of the familiar mask. Carefully, she removed it from her belt and settled it on her lap, holding it in her gloved hands delicately.


	4. Please, Forgive Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of attempt suicide & major character death

  1. **A Kiss on The Forehead **(Modern AU)

A phone call from Anatole was all it took to send Marya flying down 7 floors of stairs of her apartment, too panicked to wait for the elevator. Her fiery red hair was dishevelled, pulled into a tangled bun with strands of hair sticking out in every angle, and her clothes were crumpled with a red coat thrown over her shoulders. Ignoring her car, she decided to run to the hospital where Anatole had told her to come, urgently. The traffic would only slow her down along with the traffic light stops and pedestrian walks. She was not going to waste another second, and so she picked up her legs, carrying herself the fastest she could to her destination. Tears welled up in her eyes as she grew desperate but they did not fall, not when there was hope burning fiercely in her chest.

It was just 10 minutes ago when Marya was ready to begin her morning with a cup of coffee and a stack of paperwork. The apartment had been awfully quiet and empty ever since Hélène moved out to live with Hippolyte and her father, that immature little boy and the insane man of a parent. It was a sudden notice and Marya had had an argument with Hélène over the matter which led to heartbreak. Marya had not meant for things to end the way it had but she could not bring herself to apologize for her pride would be at stake. Her glorifying dignity did not allow herself to apologize, did not allow herself to stoop. But another reason, the very main one, why she did not apologize was because Hélène had severed every mean of communication between them. The girl had blocked her on social media, changed her number and somehow managed to disappear from everyone else’s radar. Even Pierre was clueless. Months of searching did not do any justice and Marya gave up eventually.

Marya’s phone rang obnoxiously as she sat down at her study table, and the girl let out a groan. Picking up the device, she glared at the contact name before she even read it but her brow raised to express confusion. Anatole Kuragin, the very last person on Earth she had ever expected to call her. It was strange but it made her feel uneasy. There was obviously a reason for him to call her for she was certain that he would give every possible excuse to avoid communicating with herself. She answered the call without so much of a thought, pressing the phone to her ear. Before she could address a greeting to the younger boy, a loud sniffle cut her off abruptly and it made her jump in shock. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by another sniffle. She remained quiet, waiting for the other to speak. He was crying, and that did not help the anticipation.

“M-Marya?”

“Anatole…”

“I know it’s sudden but you need to know…” A sniffle. “She… S-she.”

“Spit it out, boy. I have work to do,” Marya snapped impatiently and rubbed her forehead in annoyance.

“Something’s happened to Hélène… The hospital.”

Marya’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach and the next thing she knew, she was out the door. She did not want to know what happened to her, not now. She needed her strength to carry herself to the hospital and she could not waste it on crying. And there she was, tearing down the streets in sandals with her lungs burning with the cool autumn air. She clutched her coat tightly as she ran, close to her chest at the pain that stung in her lungs. The hospital soon came into view and she burst through the doors, bending over to catch her breath. She clutched her chest and closed her eyes, coughing at the pain that rose to her dry throat. Footsteps sounded, heading towards her in a haste and she felt a hand rest on her back. Looking up, she saw Pierre, eyes a little bloodshot from crying and she could see the way his eyes glisten underneath his spectacles. Straightening her back, she grasped Pierre’s hands tightly within hers with a look in her face that demanded answers. First Anatole’s noisy sniffling and now Pierre’s solemn expression with visible tears. Were things really that awful? So awful, it could reduce two boys into tears.

Pierre wiped at his eyes with his handkerchief, pocketing his spectacles in his breast pocket. He took his time to calm down and Marya waited with every ounce of patience left in her. At the corner of her eyes, she could see Anatole sitting with Dolokhov, hunched over in a flurry of tears and sobbing. She saw the way he shook as he clung on to Dolokhov for comfort and his sobs reached her ears, making her shudder. She turned to look at Pierre who had grasped her hand, leading her to the room Anatole stood in front of. Marya acknowledged Dolokhov, who seemed considerably calm, with a nod and he returned a subtle one before lowering his head look at Anatole. Pierre and Marya stood in front of the room and he grasped her hands.

“She… She might not make it,” Pierre whispered.

“What happened to her, Pierre? What happened to Hélène? I haven’t heard from her in months and when I do, it’s here? Tell me, Pierre. I need to know!” Marya pleaded and held on to his hands tighter.

“Arsenic. She tried to take her own life. She never moved in with Hippolyte. She returned to her father and was mistreated. Hippolyte lied to her,” Pierre explained and Marya froze. “She’s not in a stable condition. If the arsenic doesn’t kill her, it’s the abuse. It’s not a pretty sight-

“I want to see her…”

Pierre nodded at her request and opened the door, leading her inside. Marya walked in quickly but Pierre did not follow her, closing the door once she was inside. The room was eerily quiet but peaceful. The blinds were slightly open and sunlight poured in, poured over the unconscious figure on the bed who looked like an angel. Marya stood at the foot of the bed and studied Hélène quietly. Her arms were bruised, stitches stretched up the length of her right arm and she remained unmoving. Her face, that beautiful face, was scarred and bruises colored along her jaw and cheeks. She had grown skinnier, an unhealthy skinny, and it horrified Marya. Wires connected her to a heart monitor beside the bed but she did not know what the other wires were for the disappeared past the thick blankets that covered the rest of the girl’s body. She had no intention of finding where they were attached to, fearing that the other injuries may be more severe than the surface of it all. The longer she looked, the more her tears threatened to spill down her flushed cheeks. She took a seat beside Hélène and took her hand very delicately in hers. The hand was cold and she grew worried that she might actually be dead already, but the weak and constant beeping of the heart monitor reminded her that she was still there. Each beat reminded her that her time was running out and that the life she held in her hand was slipping away.

Tears stung her eyes but she held strong. She covered Hélène’s hand within her warm ones, offering the warmth that she failed to provide her all those months they had spent separated. Hesitantly, she reached a hand up to stroked Hélène’s hair gently, as well kept as they ever were. Soft, smooth but tangled curls. She missed the feeling, she missed everything they had and now she was certain that they would never have it again. There was no way they could bring time back to relish the moments they had, only the dread of neglecting each other’s comfort lingered. Throwing every bit of pride and dignity aside, she pressed Hélène’s hand against her forehead and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Hélène. I’m so sorry…” Marya whispered, blinking back her stubborn tears. “I’m sorry for being stupid… I’m sorry for driving you away. You didn’t deserve to be mistreated. I should’ve treated you better. Should have given you everything you deserved… I never thought I’d lose you like this... Permanently.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I never even got to say goodbye… I never got to say I love you.”

Marya let Hélène’s hand go and buried her face in her hands to stop her tears. ‘_I never got to say I love you._’ All of her words plagued her mind and her sorrows became over overwhelming. She sobbed quietly into her hand and clutched her hair in her fists, yanking at her locks of red hair, cursing at herself for letting this happen. She could have stopped her from leaving that very day. She could have done so much more to help her. Why hadn’t she thought of calling Anatole to ask for her? She hit her forehead with her tightly clenched fists and cursed again, frustrated with herself. She felt like blacking out, let the world consume her into darkness. She dwelled longer in her sorrows, almost forgetting where she was until she felt a hand rest over hers with a weight. She looked up to find Hélène smiling down at her weakly, her eyes barely open but through the sunlight, Marya could see how her dark eyes shone with tears. With a loud sob, Marya embraced Hélène and buried her face into her neck, continuing her sobbing openly into the girl’s shoulder. Hélène wrapped her arms around Marya loosely and rubbed her back comfortingly, crying quietly against Marya’s cheek. Marya grasped onto Hélène, afraid to let go of her, afraid that if she did, she would never be able to hold her again.

“I love you- I love you so much, Kuragin,” Marya cried against Hélène’s neck.

“I love you too, Dmitirevna,” Hélène whispered softly, kissing Marya’s forehead gently. It was a lingering kiss, her soft lips pressed against her forehead lovingly .

They spent this moment in silence for Marya was fearful that she might say all the wrong things again. She treasured the moment, soaked in all of Hélène’s affections and pressed gentle kissed to the girl’s cheek in return. She sat by Hélène’s side, the girl having made some space for her to sit down but she did not wish to take up much space. Marya leaned against the wall and Hélène rested her head on Marya’s chest, leaning into the girl she loved. She held Marya’s hand in hers lightly, rubbing circles along the top of her hand with her thumb while Marya watched fondly. Her tears had dried up for she found crying to be a waste of time and energy. Hélène too had stopped crying and she was more focused on finding ways to stick closer to Marya and make sure she was holding on to her properly. However, Hélène could not find the energy to stay awake any longer and soon fell back into unconsciousness. Marya did not want to be there if she passed, she could not cry any more and she was exhausted.

She left after staying with the unconscious girl for an hour. Pierre had advised that it was best that she let Hélène sleep for she needed every bit of rest she could get. She was unconvinced but left anyway. She prayed before going to bed but her words became hopeless, and she broke down into tears again. Anyone who knew Marya would know that she never cried but she was at her breaking point. She let it all out, sobbed loudly and cursed at the world for all her stupidity and wrong doings. She did not sleep and spent the whole night rambling to herself, reflecting on herself and her actions, and she worried for Hélène.

* * *

A week later, she received the news of Hélène’s passing but she could not bring herself to cry any more. She attended the funeral with Pierre and she was surprised to see quite a number of people, many that she recognized. Natasha and Sonya Rostova, Andrey and Mary Bolkonsky, Fedya Dolokhov, Balaga, old man Bolkonsky, and of course, Anatole. Most of them had approached Marya to give their condolences but she gave no response, her tired eyes fixated on their feet the whole while they spoke. Natasha, Sonya and Pierre stayed with Marya until she decided to leave. She stood before Hélène’s tombstone and knelt down to place a single red rose down among the many white ones that laid in a clump. Taking one last look, she managed a small sad smile.

“Goodbye… Kuragin, mon Cherie. And please, forgive me for all that I’ve done.”

Then she went over to Pierre and the others, rejoining the group to leave the place. She did not look back, resisting the urge to as she clutched the string of pearls in her hands. She held them to her chest, over her beating heart, and maintained her smile, just for her.


	5. I See Nothing But the Candle in the Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern! AU
> 
> How it all began with a Russian superstition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello gang!  
Forgive me for the really ugly formatting in this chapter. I published it on my phone instead of my laptop but I'll make sure to change that :/

5\. **A Kiss on the Hand (Modern! AU)**

"Natasha, this is absolutely ridiculous..."

"It's something new, Marya! You haven't even tried it yet and you're already judging it."

"An old Russian superstition isn't something new. It's just a silly ancient practise."

Natasha Rostova ignored the words of the older redhead and pressed a dusty candle into her hand, having found it among the discarded boxes in the corner of her room. She held an identical one in hers, unlit, but Marya had the lighter ready. Marya had no clue why she agreed to participate in this little activity when they should be finishing off their project. As a matter of fact, they only had two days to finish it, and Marya regretted coming over to Natasha's place to do the project together. The girl was so easily distracted, even the sound of a water droplet could snatch her attention. They had just been scrolling through the internet for their research project on Russian customs when they came across a page full of superstitions. Many of them were rather interesting but one in particular had caught Natasha's attention, and being she curious girl she was, she wanted to try it out. She had managed to drag Marya with her with the excuse of 'adult supervision', but there they were in front of two separate mirrors with a candle each. The superstition they were experimenting was about love. The instructions had stated that all they required was a candle and a mirror. Two very simple items to use with a very simple step. They had to stand in front of the mirror with the candle lit in their hands and supposedly, they would be able to see their future. They would either see a coffin or a man, a significant other. However, there was confirmation that everyone would see a man. For some reason, Marya expected to be face to face with an inhuman entity for she and Natasha looked as though they were summoning a demon with candles and mirrors.'That sweet lovesick girl.' Marya had thought but she could not bring herself to say no to Natasha. The way she had squealed in excitement did scare the living hell out of her but seeing how excited she was was what made it impossible to say no.

Marya lit the candles and handed Natasha a pair of gloves to protect her hands from the hot wax. She wore a pair of her own and sighed as she stared at the flame that danced on the wick. She was nervous. If this worked, what would she see in the mirror? If she saw a coffin, how would she react? And a seeing a man? That felt almost impossible. She felt a hand close over her wrist and she looked at Natasha. Her glowing smile made her feel slightly more confident and she offered a small smile in return. Natasha gave her a sideway hug with a free hand, giving a small joyful squeal.

"What do you think you'll see in the mirror?" Natasha asked curiously as she clutched the candle.

"I don't have any expectations but I am certainly hoping that I do not see a coffin," Marya responded with a dry laugh.

"Of course not!" Natasha exclaimed and shook her head. "The website did say that everyone sees a man. Oh, I wonder whether I'll see Andrey. I can't imagine being with anyone else."

"You're already with him. Why would you want confirmation from a superstition?" Marya snorted and laughed lightly.

"It isn't confirmation that I want. I'm curious to see how this works and this is our break from our project," Natasha answered and skipped off to her mirror that sat at another corner of the room.

"I would have spent my break with some tea and a game of Boston but I suppose this is fine," Marya mumbled and stood in front of the mirror. "So, do we stand and wait?"

"Yes. The candle in the reflection will stretch back and back until you see something. I don't know what that means but, we'll have to wait and see," Natasha hummed.

Marya nodded and straightened her back, holding on to the candle with both hands. They remained quiet throughout the whole process and stared intensely into the mirror. The room was dimly lit by the candles, the thick curtains of Natasha's having plunged the room into complete darkness despite it being in the middle of the day. The longer they stood in the dark, the more Marya grew anxious. She could not hear anything from Natasha nor could she hear the traffic outside. She could hear the rushing of blood through her ears, an annoying buzzing sound, and the darkness felt like it was closing in on her. Then she saw it, the way her candle stretched back and back in the reflection. Staring at the mirror, she realized that she was not face to face with her own reflection anymore. Her own reflection was replaced by a slightly shorter figure with a body too slender to be a man's. A girl. One she had never seen before. The figure wore clothes colored in black and metallic green, her dark brown curls pulled up in a messy bun and her face decorated with light make-up. Marya could not help but admire the stranger in the mirror, her breath hitched in her throat. She could not find her voice to speak, too awestruck by the gorgeous stranger. She was relieved that the stranger was not there to watch her gape like a fool but she took her time. Marya had her doubts of ever meeting this stranger. Even though the superstition was true, what were the chances of meeting this girl out of millions of people? She could not let a reflection to bring such thoughts into her head, those stupid feelings of love.

Moving away from the mirror, she blew out the candle and placed it aside. The opaque darkness vanished and she could see the room clearly with Natasha's candle still lit. Natasha had just moved away from the mirror and the girl gazed up at the ceiling in deep thought. She murmured to herself, thinking out loud, then blew out her own candle. She drew the curtains open and opened the window, allowing some fresh air into the room. She stretched her arms over her head and took a deep breath while Marya cleaned the wax that had dripped on the floor. Natasha turned to look at Marya with a smile but it was not as bright as before. She helped Marya with the wax and discarded the mess into the dustbin underneath her dressing table. Putting the candles aside, they sat on Natasha's bed, fumbling with their clothes as they processed whatever happened a few minutes ago.

Marya was a lot more relaxed than Natasha was. Natasha had seen something she wished desperately to unsee. A man did appear in the mirror but he was lying down and she did not know why. The man only laid motionless but she could not see any injuries on him that could have caused his unconsciousness. Pressing her hands against her cheeks, she grew worried about Andrey. Was something going to happen to him? He was currently studying overseas, very alive and well, but now she feared that he may never come back. Or something may happen to her before he did. They were frightening thoughts but she did not show it for she did not want Marya to worry about her. Marya, on the other hand, was stunned and conflicted. The only worry she had was meeting the other girl and the very possibility of it. Social media was useless for she did not even know her name. Running a hand through her locks of red hair, she slouched her shoulder and scrunched her nose. Thinking was useless, it was doing nothing to help her. Exhaling, they turned to face each other.

"So?" Natasha asked, any sign of worry nonexistent.

"So... It worked," Marya answered plainly.

"I mean, what did you see? It worked for me too," Natasha stated and leaned in closer to Marya for a proper answer.

"I saw a figure but I don't remember much about them." A lie. The beautiful girl was stuck in her head and she could not stop thinking about her. "It was a quick glimpse."

"Really? It felt like longer," Natasha murmured and rubbed her chin. "What about obvious details? Tall, short?"

"An inch shorter than I am," Marya responded quickly.

Natasha seemed disappointed but did not press on. "Oh well. I guess that's alright."

"Did you see Andrey in yours?" Marya asked and looked at Natasha expectantly.

" I did, yes. He was there, just stagnant. Nothing much," Natasha told her and shrugged lightly.

"If that's how seeing the future works, it should be kept that way. We should not be provided spoilers, it would ruin ourselves with false hope," Marya stated firmly and stood up.

"I agree." Natasha stood up after her. "Shall we continue with our project?"

"Yes, please."

They returned to the computer with their books and pens, ready to complete their project. They suppressed their thoughts and worries, focused on their project. Marya worked quietly on the computer, searching for more information for their project while Natasha jotted down notes. It was an odd day, they both could agree on that.

* * *

Marya waited outside a cafe for Natasha to grab their coffee, the sweet girl having offered to do the coffee run for today. She had already forgotten about the beautiful girl for it had been two weeks since her experiment with Natasha. While waiting, she ran through the emails on her phone, checking for any unread notices or work from her university lecturers. Leaning back against the wall, she stuck her legs out to balance herself, unaware of a girl running after two boys. The boys managed to leap over Marya's legs but the girl was not so fortunate. Before Marya could react, the girl had already tripped over her leg. Marya reacted quickly, stretching her arms out to catch her. She caught her waist successfully and the other hand wrapped around her shoulders to keep her upright. The girl was light and it took almost no effort to keep her up. The girl had thrown her arms around Marya's neck to prevent herself from falling and they remained there, hands grasping onto her shoulders tightly. Marya felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment and guilt. The boy, tall and slender with platinum blonde hair, jogged back to them, a cringe settling upon his handsome features. The other returned, eyes outlined with an exaggerated amount of eyeliner and had scruffy hair. The Blondie watched the girls, one his sister and the other a red-headed stranger. The boys gave Marya similar looks but she was too busy worrying about the girl to notice.

"I am so terribly sorry! I didn't mean to trip you. Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Marya cried out frantically.

"Quite a catch there, ma chere," the blondie murmured dnd chuckled but the scruffy haired one elbowed him. His voice was surprising light and soft, so intoxicating.

"Shut up, Anatole. You're not making this any better," the scruffy haired one snapped.

"Please save your bickering," Marya interjected, freezing when she heard a soft laugh from the girl.

The girl in her arms lifted her head to greet her savior and Marya gasped audibly. It was her, the girl in the mirror. She was more beautiful than Marya thought she would be in real life and it stole her breath away. The smile that stretched on the girl's lips made her heart skip a beat and she felt her throat dry painfully. Loosening their grip on each other, Marya watched the other straighten her clothes, a metallic green knee-length dress. She moved so gracefully, it was hardly believable to believe how one could move like silk, smooth and gentle. She waited for her to finish brushing off her skirts, bracing herself for the smile that she was offered, only wider and brighter this time.

"I'm alright. Nothing's broken, there's no need to be frantic," the girl spoke, her voice a little deep but it was the most soothing thing Marya had ever heard, just as intoxicating as the Blondie's was.

"Are you sure? You took quite a fall," Marya mumbled uncertainty.

"I promise you, I'm okay. Like my brother said, that was a good catch," the girl said with a short laugh.

"Right, right..." Marya let out an awkward giggle.

The girl held her hand out. "Thank you um- Does my savior have a name?"

"Marya. Marya Dmitrievna." She took her hand and shook it lightly.

"A gorgeous name for a gorgeous lady," the other hummed and brought Marya's hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"Are you flirting?" Marya asked, raising a brow.

"Maybe~ But don't be so bothered by it, it's what I do." The girl brushed it off but Marya felt the heat rising to her cheeks.

She nodded and cleared her throat. "I see... I don't think I got your name."

"It's -

"MARYA!" Natasha's voice rang through the door of the café and she rushed up to the older girl. "Are you alright? I saw what happened but the people in line were so fussy, I couldn't do anything. Good thing is I got our coffee."

"I'm fine. It's her you should be asking," Marya muttered, rather upset at the interruption.

"Oh, Hélène, it's you!" Natasha exclaimed. Handing the coffee to Anatole, she hugged the girl in a warm embrace and they stood there giggling.

"Natasha, darling! How are you?" The girl, now known as Hélène, chirped happily.

"I should be asking you that!" Natasha exclaimed and Hélène burst into giggles. Natasha turned to look at Marya who was watching them, eyes widening slightly. "You two have never met before! I've forgotten about that."

"No, we haven't. We were just about to get to know each other when you skipped along," Hélène told Natasha and looked up at Marya with a smile in which Marya returned sheepishly.

"My apologies! Do proceed with your introductions." Natasha backed off and turned to greet the boys, Anatole Kuragin and Fedya Dolokhov.

The three moved away to speak, speaking in a hushed conversation while Marya and Hélène stood there quietly smiling. Hélène admired Marya for a minute. Her stunning blue eyes captured her in a daze, and she wanted nothing more than to run her hand through that silky red hair that flowed down her shoulders. Marya also stood in silence, unable to tear her eyes away from Hélène. Shifting quietly, Hélène finally spoke up to break the silence but acted as thought it was never there.

"I'm Hélène. Hélène Kuragin. It's a pleasure to meet you, Marya."

"A beautiful name," Marya responded, earning a giggle from Hélène.

"Was that flriting?" Hélène teased and nudged Marya lightly.

"Perhaps," Marya teased back and grinned.

"I like you already," Hélène squealed and clapped her hands in delight. "Anyway, I was not aware that you were Natasha's friend. How is it that you know dear Natasha?"

Marya tutted and rubbed her hands together. "I've known her since she was a little girl. Our parents were close. And how about you?"

"My college junior. I'm graduating soon so, I barely see her these days. I am quite glad that we have a mutual friend. That way, we can keep in touch better," Hélène remarked joyfully.

"We?"

Anatole cleared his throat and Hélène rolled her eyes as she looked at him. Looking at him expectantly for an answer, the boy simply tapped his watched and her eyes widened. Cursing at herself, she pursed her lips tightly together and looked up at Marya, rubbing the back of her neck lightly. A look of embarrassment crossed her features but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, a smile having taken its place.

"I gotta run. Ask Natasha for my number if you wish to contact me. It really was nice to meet you, mon Cherie, even though it did not start of too well," Hélène spoke quickly.

"It was a pleasure meeting you too, Hélène," Marya answered and bowed her head slightly. "I hope we meet again."

With that, Hélène winked. "I know we will." And she left, rushing off with Dolokhov and Anatole after sharing a goodbye with Natasha.

Marya watched the trio hurry off and tilted her head. She had never felt so lovestruck. Love at first sight was ridiculous to her but now that she had experienced it, it was like she was living in a fantastical dream that she dis not want to wake up from. Clearing her mind and her throat, she took the coffee from Natasha and with her free hand, took Natasha's hand. They walked down the sidewalk but Natasha seemed more focused on Marya's silence and dazed expression.

"Do I suspect a crush?" Natasha asked and giggled softly.

"Not at all. I barely know her," Marya lied coolly.

"You could always get to know her better. Ask her out to dinner or something. Or text her," Natasha suggested.

"You're jumping too quickly into conclusions. I don't even have her number," Marya rambled and sipped her coffee.

"I have it. You can have it, only if you ask for it," Natasha challenges with a cheeky smirk.

Marya stifled a laugh and shook her head. "You silly girl..."

* * *

Anatole and Dolokhov walked down the sidewalks, hand-in-hand while Hélène walked with her hands clasped together in front of her. Her smile stretched up to her ears and a faint blush colored her dark skin. Anatole moved to her side, his fingers still laced with Dolokhov's and he smirked at his sister. The lovestruck glow in her dark eyes was unmistakable and the way she smiled was the most Anatole had ever her muster. His smile then softened into a fond one, knowing that his sister was the happiest she could be. Resting his free hand on her shoulder, he leaned in to whisper.

"Was she the one you saw in the mirror?" he whispered.

Hélène sighed contentedly and nodded. "Yes. She's the one."

"You hit the jackpot, Lena. She's pretty," Anatole hummed and Hélène elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

"She's not just pretty. She's gorgeous, beautiful... A goddess," Hélène babbled and looked up dreamily.

Dolokhov pulled Anatole back to his side and chuckled. "Leave her to her dream, Anatole... Leave her be."

And so he did but watched her quietly as she murmured to herself. He assumed that she was talking to them but he did not respond to her babbling. She truly was in love and he did not want anything to ruin it.

* * *

[12:30 a.m]

**Marya D.**: Hello, Hélène. This is Marya Dmitrievna. I hope I got your number correct. This is sudden but, would you like to hang out? Whenever you're free. I'd really love to know more about you.

[12:35 a.m]

**Marya D**.: *like not love... That sounded terribly awkward.

[12:40 a.m]

**Marya D**.: I know a cafe nearby my place. It's cozy and peaceful so yeah. Anyway, goodnight. I hope I'm not disturbing you.

[1 a.m]

**Hélène**: I'd LOVE to, mon cherie. How about 12 in the afternoon? I'll meet you at there?

**Marya D.**: It's settled. I'll see you there.

**Hélène**: I look forward to seeing you again.


	6. I Want Nothing More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern! AU
> 
> Christmas is near but Hélène doesn't have any plans to celebrate without her lover.

6\. **A Kiss Paired with a Tight Hug**

The shared apartment that belonged to Hélène and Marya felt empty. There was no laughter, no late night talks, no cheesy romance films playing on the television and the bed was cold, lacking Marya's warmth. It had been a year since Hélène had seen Marya for the older girl had left to Moscow to further studies. She had left before Christmas, which was just dreadful. Hélène was close to graduating from college so she remained in New York alone. Their good-bye was tear filled. Hélène and Pierre were the ones who sent her to the airport, Pierre having driven. Neither of them wanted Marya to leave and they both cried to themselves on the way back to their homes. It was the first time they had ever cried in front of each other, not even their break-up was as heart-breaking as Marya's departure. They laughed about it when Pierre brought it up as a joke, neither offended by the fact.

Living alone presently, Hélène had grown used to the silence. It was something that had always been with her since young. The silence and emptiness, but ever since she and Marya got together, those feelings became strangers. Her brother, Anatole, and his boyfriend, Dolokhov, were too occupied with their own schooling to accompany Hélène but they called occasionally at night. The calls never lasted long for they always ended with the boys falling asleep on the phone after an hour or less. It was enough to keep Hélène functioning in her loneliness but everything she did was either done sloppily or half-hearted. Natasha was the sweetest. The girl would always come around to visit whenever she could with Sonya, though Sonya would only tag along if she could bring Mary. Natasha would bring little handmade pastries to cheer Hélène up and keep her company for the entire day. Sometimes, she would even drag Hélène out of the house for a girl's day out, with the help of Pierre. Yes, Pierre sometimes came along with Natasha for he too was concerned about Hélène. It was touching receiving concern and care from her friends, and within the year, she grew closer to them. It was something Marya would love, she had thought.

Calling Marya was almost impossible. The redhead was always busy studying and timezones were no big help. They had only managed to call three times in a year, and they spent those calls like it was the last call they would ever have. Texts were rare to come by and when they did, they were short. Three to five words at most. It was not much but it was something.

In the present, Hélène was on the couch, laying on her back with her eyes fixated on the ceiling. She tugged at the ends of her brown curls, disheveled and tangled, her hands pulling at the knots in her hair. On the other couch sat Natasha and Sonya. The three of them were talking about the holidays but it seemed that Natasha was the only one talking. She spoke enthusiastically about how she was going to spend her Christmas with Andrey and an abundant amount of hot chocolate. Sonya spoke up now and then about spending her Christmas with Mary, same as Natasha except lesser hot chocolate. They invited Hélène to join them but she was unsure for she did not want to be the third wheel for two couples. She would celebrate Christmas with Anatole and Dolokhov but they were just another couple to third wheel. Celebrating with Pierre would be terribly awkward so that was out of the question. Two lonely Christmases. How lovely. Rubbing her face in her hands, she let out a groan and looked up at the girls with frown.

"I could very well be celebrating Christmas with old man Bolkonsky since I've got no one else," Hélène groaned and dropped her arms to her sides, letting one hang off the couch.

"You have us, Hélène! We did invite you to join us," Natasha told her and sat up straight.

"I'll be third wheeling you and your partners so, I'll pass. I wouldn't want to disrupt anyone's personal time together," Hélène muttered dismissively.

"There will be no third wheeling. Pierre will be there with us and it isn't like we're going to stick to our partners the whole day," Natasha argued and folded her arms over her chest.

"Pierre and I are like metal on metal. We don't go well together, we're chaotic and screechy. We may be friends but we have our boundaries," Hélène told her.

"Fair point," Natasha sighed in defeat.

"Speaking of Pierre, isn't he suppose to be here by now?" Sonya interjected and stood up to check her phone that sat on the kitchen counter.

Natasha furrowed her brows and picked her phone up. "He should but but he hasn't called or texted."

"Try calling him then. He might have forgotten about our meet-up," Helene grumbled and sat up, stretching her arms over her head.

Natasha tutted softly and shook her head. "That silly man. It's typical of him, really."

Pressing her phone to her ear, a knock sounded at the door. Sonya was quick to answer it and Pierre came stumbling into the room. The poor man was shivering from the cold, his clothes caked in a light layer of snow. He thanked Sonya quietly and closed the door behind him. Sonya helped him with his coat and hung it on the coat rack that hung hers and Natasha's own. The snow melted in the warmth of the room but the coat absorbed the water before they could roll to the ground. Pierre removed his snow-coated beanie from his head and placed it by the sink while hastily greeting everyone, a small smile on his lips. Natasha leapt to her feet to embrace her friend in which he returned happily. Hélène did not move from the couch but offered him a wave in response to his greeting.

"Sorry, I'm late. I got caught in a bit of a mess arranging things for tomorrow," Pierre explained as he untangled himself from Natasha's embrace. "It was rather hectic but I got things done."

"Marvellous! Thank you for handling the preparations, dear Pierre," Natasha exclaimed and hugged him again.

"You're welcome. So, what did I miss?" Pierre asked as he led Natasha and Sonya back to the couch.

"Am I missing something? What is 'tomorrow'?" Hélène asked curiously, eyes narrowed at the three.

"An outing," Natasha answered and beamed at Hélène.

"Right. One of those. What's it going to be tomorrow? Another picnic at Central Park?" Hélène questioned and leaned into the pillows.

"You'll see," Pierre hummed.

"In other words, it's a surprise," Natasha added and giggled.

Before Hélène could ask another question, Sonya spoke up. "Pierre, we were discussing about Christmas. How do you plan to spend yours?"

"Oh. I didn't think about it. Maybe binge watch some Christmas films and read. Nothing special," Pierre murmured and fumbled with his hands.

Hélène listened as the three of them talked. If being a fourth wheel was possible, this was it. And to make matters worse, it was in her own apartment. She laid on her side and wrapped her arms around herself, hands grasping the sides of her sweater. Despite being in the company of some friends, she felt lonelier. She rolled on her back to start at the ceiling and folded her leg over the other. She lost herself in her thoughts, wishing that Marya would come bursting through the door so that she could hold on to her. There was not a day when Marya would slip from her mind. She scratched the back of her head and nuzzled into the sleeve of her sweater. Not her own but Marya's. They had exchanged a sweater each for the fun of it but Hélène found herself seeking comfort from the article of clothing. It was the first time she wore it. The red sweater reeked of Marya's perfume, a strong burst of roses filling her nose as she took a deep breath. That very scent haunted the empty side of her bed and it constantly reminded Hélène that she was alone. She buried her face in her arms, nuzzling into the sleeves as she curled up on the couch. Closing her eyes, she relaxed against the pillows and played with her hair absent-mindedly, unaware that Pierre, Natasha and Sonya had gone quiet.

They watched her and exchanged looks of sympathy. Seeing Hélène vulnerable like this was a rare sight but they did not wish to say it out loud. Obviously, it was going to sound awfully stupid. Natasha moved over to the other couch, kneeling down beside it and placed a hand over Hélène's shoulder. Hélène held Natasha's hand gently but did not turn to face her. Natasha traced circles on top of the other's hand and rested her head on Hélène's arm, unsure of how to comfort her. Pierre moved to Natasha's side and clasped his hands together, not wanting to touch Hélène for he found it may be inappropriate. Hélène swatted a hand at them lazily then rested it on Pierre's nest of black hair, patting it lightly.

"Hélène? Are you alright?" Natasha murmured and adjusted her head, inching closer to Hélène's ear.

"I'm fine, mon cher... Perfectly fine," Hélène answered in a soft squeak.

"Is there anything we could do to make you feel better?" Natasha pressed on and frowned.

"I told you, Natasha, I'm fine... Your company is enough," she murmured and finally turned around.

"Well ah- do you want us to tell you the details for tomorrows outing?" Pierre asked and scrunched his nose.

"Now that, I'm interested," Hélène hummed and rolled on her back, looking up at them. "Do tell."

"I won't give away too much. A surprise is still a surprise," Pierre told her and cleared his throat. "To begin with, you need to be up early, around 7:30."

"7:30? For an outing?" Hélène repeated, eyes going wide.

"Listen to me first. We're not going to a park or café, we're going somewhere farther. Everyone will have to wake up early for this um- activity. Can't have any delays. We have to beat the traffic too," Pierre proceeded and Hélène nodded in understanding.

"This is new," Hélène mumbled and sat up, wrapping her arms around Natasha.

"And exciting, isn't it?" Natasha added as she sat beside Hélène, hugging her back.

"Yeah, but not the early bit." Hélène shook her head and laughed softly.

"All for a good reason, Hélène. Believe me," Pierre said and patted her back.

Hélène nodded and smiled at him. "I trust you on this, Pierre. I know very well that you rarely ever lie."

Hélène held an arm out to Pierre and he sat down beside her, hugging her gently. The three of them hugged tightly, Hélène sandwiched in the middle as the other two squeezed her. Hélène heard herself giggle at this and Natasha too burst into a fit of giggling. Sonya got up from her couch and joined the hug, hugging Hélène from the front and they fell back against the couch. Warmth settled in Hélène's chest and an overwhelming appreciation for her friends, and she melted into the hug.

"Hélène? Does this mean you'll spend Christmas with us?" Natasha asked with a cheeky grin.

Hélène chuckled and shrugged. "I'll think about it."

* * *

It was 7:30 in the morning and the gang was already in the car, halfway through their journey to this mystery destination. Hélène could not muster the energy to stay awake, her eyes closing then opening whenever Pierre made a clumsy swerve. Her head dangled from the side of her seat and Natasha took this chance to braid her curls from the backseat. Sonya watched in amusement while hugging one of the mini pillows Pierre kept in his car. No one spoke for they were not in the mood for conversing so they took in the silence. Pierre had to focus on the road, his eyes squinting through his rounded glasses at the signs they drove past. The car was small but comfortable for the four of them, and especially most comfortable for Pierre to drive in. Big cars were not suitable for the careless man and even the small car was challenging time maneuver at times. No one minded his driving but they were concerned about the safety belts, whether it was secure enough to ensure their safety.

The drive went on for an hour and Hélène dozed off in her seat, waking up when the car jerked to a stop in a parking lot. The clicking of unbuckled seatbelts filled the car and she sat up to unbuckle hers. Doors opened and they stepped out at once, closing the doors almost in sync. Rubbing her eyes, she narrowed her eyes at the large building before them, noting the airplanes taking off and landing nearby. Pierre stood beside Hélène and held a hand out towards the building, smiling proudly. Sonya and Natasha walked arm in arm, smiling as they whispered among themselves. Hélène stared at the airport and scrunched her nose, raising a brow at Pierre.

"The airport is the surprise? Are we going somewhere?" Hélène asked and rubbed the back of her neck.

"No questions. Follow me," Pierre interrupted and took Hélène's hand, leading her inside with Sonya and Natasha tailing them.

"But-"

"Be patient, Hélène," Natasha cut in and hooked her arm through hers. "Come, come! We'll be late!"

"It's 8:30?" Hélène tried to point out but was ignored.

"Natasha, could you please navigate us through this place? I can never find my way here," Pierre grumbled, gesturing for the girl to do so.

"Gladly!" Natasha exclaimed.

She took the lead, guiding them through the labyrinth of an airport. She looked out for signs as she went though her navigation seemed effortless. After many twists and turns and climbing escalators, they reached an arrival hall. Families and chauffeurs lined up in front of a gate, waiting in anticipation for the passengers to emerge. The four of them joined the line, murmuring a flurry of 'excuse mes' as they lined themselves up with the rest. Natasha leaned over the railing for she was unable to stand still, her feet tapping against the ground rapidly. Sonya stood on her tiptoes as she surveyed the crowd of passengers that walked out of the doors, grasping Natasha's shoulder to keep herself balanced. Hélène was in a blur, unable to process what was going on as sleep proceeded to plague her mind. She could hear Pierre talking to her but his words were inaudible. Beside her, she could see Natasha jumping like an overexcited child, pointing towards the crowd of passengers. That was when she saw her. That unmistakable smile and excessive amount of red clothing. Sleep snapped out of her head and she was wide awake, and Pierre noticed, letting out a chuckle. In a second, Hélène broke into a run.

Marya searched the crowd for Pierre for she was told that he was the only one there to pick her up. Looking around, she spotted the familiar metallic green clothing she was so accustomed to seeing. Her head snapped towards the direction of the green blur but was met by a crashing hug. She stumbled back but managed to stay on her feet, her arms wrapping around Hélène tightly. Hélène clinged on to her, legs wrapped firmly around Marya's waist as she buried her face in her neck, sobbing loudly against her. Marya trembled lightly, tears welling up in her eyes as she held on to Hélène, the brightest smile stretching on her lips. She had dropped her bags to clutch the woman in her arms but she did not care for the discarded luggage. She was holding the world in her hands, and she had no plans of letting go.

"You're here... You're actually here," Hélène gasped in between sobs.

"I am... I'm right here..." Marya murmured quietly and nuzzled against her cheek lovingly.

Marya lifted Hélène's head gently to admire her tear stained but beautiful face. How she missed those loving eyes and that fond gaze. She spent a year seeking comfort from a static picture of that smile and now, she could finally see that smile wholely. The way her eyes crinkled when her smile grew and how her smiles always turned into giggling. Unable to contain herself any longer, she connected their lips in a deep and passionate kiss. Hélène smiled through her tears and sniffled, returning the kiss without a thought to spare. With Marya's hands on her thighs keeping her up, Hélène cupped her cheeks delicately and wiped at the tears with her thumbs. Pressing their foreheads together, they pulled away for breath, their lips still touching. Marya managed a laugh through hiccoughs and reached a hand up to stroke Hélène's cheek, wiping the smudges of mascara off. Letting her back down on her feet, they stood there smiling at each other, exchanging small kisses to make up for all the days they were parted. Their hug did not loosen but tighten, if that was even possible with how close they were. Hélène traced Marya's jaw with a finger and exhaled through her toothy smile, shaking her head lightly.

"I've missed you so much..."

"I know, Kuragin... I know. I'm never leaving your side."

"Is that a promise, Dmitrievna?"

"No. It's the truth."

Hélène sniffled, suppressing another round of tears as she embraced her lover tightly. Marya held Hélène close and rested her head atop of hers, her tears leaking down her cheeks and onto her hair. Pierre, Sonya and Natasha came rushing to them with overjoyed squeals and vigorous waves, and Marya quickly wiped at her tears. They hugged at once and shedded tears of joy. Hélène looked up at Pierre and hit his chest lightly but a smile lit up her features.

"You planned all this?" Hélène asked as she wiped her tears.

"Not by myself. I had some help," Pierre said with pride and nudged Natasha.

"Marya, did you know?" Hélène asked and looked at the redhead.

"No! I was told that Pierre was coming to pick me up," Marya said and looked at Pierre accusingly.

"Well, we're happy, that's what matters," Pierre spoke quickly and picked up Marya's luggage. "Shall we get going? I'm sure you two have a lot to do."

"So, Hélène. For the third time, would you like to spend Christmas with us?" Natasha asked and grinned.

"Absolutely," Hélène answered firmly and laughed.

"You had to ask her three times for a yes?" Marya asked and rubbed Hélène's side affectionately.

"She refused to be the third wheel," Sonya told Marya as she helped Pierre with the luggage.

"My poor darling. We'll celebrate together. And also, for missing your birthday twice and last year's Christmas, I have many gifts for you," Marya whispered and winked.

"God, I love you," Hélène mumbled dreamily and kissed her.

They left the airport, and separating Hélène and Marya was impossible. They stuck together like glue, arms locking the other beside them. Even in the car, Hélène refused to sit on the seat, sitting on Marya's lap instead for the whole ride but no one could complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to fangirl about Hadestown and/or the Great Comet with me, especially about this ship, feel free to hmu on tumblr!
> 
> @irreplacable-ecstasyy


	7. Bells, Boxes

**7\. A Christmas Kiss**

Right after finishing their meals, Marya found herself being dragged away from the dining table. Marya followed a very giddy looking Hélène who tugged at the sleeve of her ugly Christmas sweater, her prized one that won her the title of the Ugliest Christmas Sweater in their little family that consisted of Natasha, Sonya, Mary, Pierre, Anatole and Dolokhov. Let us talk about this prized sweater. It was prized in so many ways. To begin with, it was the first Christmas gift Hélène had ever given her and despite how hideous it was, she treasured it with all her heart.. Secondly, it was from the woman she loved and third, this sweater crowned her the winner in many ugly Christmas Sweater contests among their family and friends. It was a wild bright red color, lighter than any red she had ever worn, strung with lights that lit up with a flick of a switch. Laced with the lights were sparkling tinsel and baubles that made her look like a human Christmas tree. And on the shoulders were ribbons that you would find on present, one side with a tag that said, "To: Hélène". It was insanity but Marya adored it. 

Presently, Marya could not tell what the younger woman was so excited about but it was certainly a joy to see her as happy as she was. A smile stretched upon her lips despite tripping over her feet several times as she tried to catch up with Hélène who was still pulling at her sleeve. She did not say anything, not even offering the smallest clue about where they were going but Marya did not question her. She liked the ambiguity. 

Stopping by the arch that led to the kitchen, Hélène came to a stop and Marya watched as she dug a hand into the pocket. Out came her hand and she produced a mistletoe, holding it over their heads with a proud grin. How long had she been planning this? Marya scoffed softly and shook her head in amusement, rolling her eyes playfully. Gods, she loved this woman but she could be strange sometimes. 

"Lena"-

Before Marya could continue any further, Hélène grasped the collar of Marya's sweater and pulled her down for a passionate and heated kiss. Her hands snaked into Marya's locks of red hair, holding the back of her head to bring it lower so that she did not have to tiptoe. Marya, who was still recovering from her surprise, wrapped her arms around Hélène's waist and she bent down just a little for her. Marya hummed in delight against Hélène's lips which elicited a soft laugh from her and they held each other close, ridding of any distance that separated them. 

They broke apart from the kiss when they heard a squeal that obviously came from Natasha then a quiet yelp that came from Sonya. Turning their heads, Marya and Hélène had not noticed that they had an audience watching them from the living room that was in the adjoining room. There they stood with expressions that did contrasted one another's. Mary stood beside Sonya, arm in arm with the redhead and she looked towards the floor bashfully then up at Sonya who began to chuckle softly. Natasha clasped her hands together over her chest, jumping like an excited child while Pierre stood beside her with a hand on his forehead. He whispered something to Natasha, something along the lines of 'privacy' and 'leaving them to their business' but the Rostova did not seem too interested with his suggestions. Anatole runbed his hands together with the cheekiest smirk on his face and Dolokhov hooted and whistled. So much for a moment alone. 

"Got your hands full, Akhrosimova?" Dolokhov teased and he shared a laugh with Anatole. 

"Enjoying your Christmas gift, sister?" Anatole jabbed and he slapped his knee as he threw his head back. 

"Oh, would you two shut up? Quit ruining their moment," Natasha snapped as she swatted a hand at the both of them. 

"How about giving them their privacy?" Pierre asked, repeating his previous suggestion in which he received the same response; Natasha refused. 

Mary and Sonya had already trotted off elsewhere but the remaining four stayed persistently, though Pierre did look like he wanted to flee from the scene. Natasha began to bicker with Anatole and Dolokhov while Pierre watched, and Hélène snorted. Marya scowled at the men, save for Pierre, but Hélène lifted a hand to hold her chin, turning her head until her gaze met hers. Those gentle honey irises and the way those pink lips quirked upwards in the most adorable smile. 

"Don't mind them, ma chere," Hélène murmured softly as she pressed a quick kiss against Marya's lips. 

"I am, love. I have quite a stunning distraction," Marya teased and she poked Hélène's nose. 

"Really? What's that? Or should I say, who?" Hélène inquired but the mischievous glint in her eyes told Marya that she knew. 

"This particular woman in my arms... With very messy curls because she refused to listen to me when I told her to comb it out a little but she looks adorable as ever~" Marya purred in a voice like a sultry whisper, and it made Hélène shudder. 

"Aw... I love you, Masha.... So so much," Hélène mumbled and she pulled Marya in for another kiss. 

"I love you too, my dear," Marya whispered against her lips. 

Marya bent down but this time, she brought her hands down to Helene's thighs to carry her. The smaller woman wrapped her legs around Marya's waist and her arms enveloped her neck loosely. Their foreheads connected, their hearts fluttering and they did not care if their audience was still spectating. Marya led them somewhere else, into the kitchen corner where they were away from the nosy prying eyes and the excited chatter. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to fangirl about Hadestown and/or the Great Comet with me, especially about this ship, feel free to hmu on tumblr! 
> 
> @irreplacable-ecstasy


End file.
